


Occam's Razor

by Hllangel



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has never been able to say no to Neal; but saying yes is much more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occam's Razor

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to everyone who helped me through this: [](http://gin200168.livejournal.com/profile)[**gin200168**](http://gin200168.livejournal.com/), you are an excellent cheerleader; [](http://karaokegal.livejournal.com/profile)[**karaokegal**](http://karaokegal.livejournal.com/), my writing would be a lot worse without you around. Thank you to the mods of the [](http://community.livejournal.com/whitecollar_bb/profile)[**whitecollar_bb**](http://community.livejournal.com/whitecollar_bb/) for doing this. Having run Big Bangs in the past, I know how much work it takes. You've done a fantastic job. Finally, I do not own any of the characters or situations of White Collar.
> 
> Excellent art by [](http://canarypaper.livejournal.com/profile)[**canarypaper**](http://canarypaper.livejournal.com/), who not only did the wonderful banner you see above, but illustrated three separate scenes for me. <3

  
Peter knew that he would accept Neal's offer the minute Neal met his eyes and criticized his suit. The offer wasn't even on the table, but it didn't matter. He's never talked to Neal without some sort of bargaining happening. 

 _This is asking for trouble_ , Peter thinks after El goes back to bed. He signs the forms anyway. Neal's eyes are staring unblinkingly up from his mug shot clipped to the top of the folder.  
   
***

Currently, Neal is laughing at El's anecdote about a client's wine preference while they sip something Neal brought over from June's. Neal meets Peter's eyes while they laugh, and Peter is left wondering when this became a normal part of his life. Somewhere between picking up Neal from jail and Neal turning up on his couch just days later. 

Because Neal is ostensibly at their house to go over their latest case, they pull out the folders while El cleans up dinner (Neal offered to help, but she shooed him away) and spread out over half the table. They're discussing possible ways to target Kiernan when Peter suddenly notices that Neal has moved his chair around the table and is now sitting elbow to elbow with him. Also, his glass is still full, despite the fact that Peter knows he's been steadily drinking.

They've both been silent for a while, staring at the same page and not really seeing it when El comes up behind him and whispers in his ear.

"Don't be too long." She presses a soft kiss to his cheek before disappearing up the stairs. Peter turns and watches her walk upstairs.

"I should go," Neal says, straightening up his files and stacking them neatly. "We can look at it with fresh eyes in the morning."

Neal finishes his wine while Peter calls a cab. He wants to say something more, but he's not sure what that something is, so they listen to El move around as she gets ready for bed. The cabbie calling to tell them he's outside startles Peter, and he can see Neal jump, too.

With his pulse beating just slightly higher than normal, Peter fights the urge to help Neal with his coat, it's some misguided chivalrous impulse, but he settles for fiddling with the lock on the door instead.

"Thanks for dinner, Peter," Neal says before walking out the door. Neal pauses for a second and Peter thinks he may be about to say something else, but Peter speaks instead.

"I'll pick you up at 7:00."

As he watches Neal disappear into the dark car, he quickly dispels the idea that maybe Neal stood a little closer than normal while meeting his eyes and saying goodbye. It's most likely his imagination, and in any case, El is waiting for him upstairs and she'll notice in a heartbeat if he's distracted. They don't keep secrets; but while Peter knows he'll tell her about whatever this is eventually, he's not even sure how to put a name to it yet. He forces himself to leave it at the front door, and each step up the stairs leaves a little more of that odd feeling behind until he feels like himself again at the door to their bedroom. 

El is sitting against the bed frame, reading some new mystery novel with her hair coming loose in strands from where it's tucked behind her ears. Peter plucks the book from her hands, and carefully marks the spot before brushing her hair back and leaning in to kiss her, all thoughts of Neal completely forgotten. 

***

It takes another two weeks to catch up to Kiernan, but they finally find him casing the same gallery where Peter met El all those years ago. Peter tries to catch Neal's eye as he clicks the handcuffs around Kiernan's wrist, a moment of hard-won triumph that he nearly desperately wants to share, but he finds that Neal is looking anywhere but at Peter. More specifically, anywhere but the handcuffs that are now locked.  For a fleeting moment, Peter thinks he knows why Neal is so uncomfortable with the scene, but he promptly forgets it as he recites the Miranda warnings and shoves Kiernan into the back seat of one of the other bureau cars.  Diana can take care of the processing.

He invites Neal over for dinner, but the invitation is turned down. Even though the conversation is light and constant, Neal stares out the window during the entire drive back to June's.   
***

Neal knocks on Peter's door at the office while Peter is going through the paperwork for a case they closed a month ago, prepping himself for court the next day. The combination of dark shirt and dark tie make Neal look like he's half hidden, melting into the shadows; no mean feat given the bright industrial lighting in the Federal building. 

"I have a question for you," Neal says, sitting down and crossing his right leg easily over the other. 

Neal isn't carrying a file with him, but Peter tries not to read too much into that, as he knows exactly how smart Neal is. Certainly smart enough to carry on a conversation about a case or suspect without having the material in front of him as a crutch. 

"Would you mind if I invited Elizabeth to the Opera on Thursday night?"

The question is so far out of left field that Peter isn't sure how to respond, so he says nothing and waits for Neal to continue. 

"It's just that June has tickets, and I'd normally go with her, but her granddaughter has a recital that night."

"Let me get this straight," Peter starts. The verbal tag gives him enough time to sort out his thoughts. Well, mostly. "You're asking permission to take my wife on a date?"

"Not a date," Neal counters. "I have tickets and you don't strike me as the opera type. I think Elizabeth would enjoy it."

"What about Alex?" Peter asks, though he's somewhat relieved that Alex isn't at the top of Neal's list. She's the last person he needs around right now.

"I don't think she wants to see me right now. And besides, xiandaixi* isn't her thing."

Neal's eyes are focused directly on Peter, as though he's attempting to read Peter's response in the lines of his face, the set of his arms. And maybe he can because Neal's eyes light up a split second before Peter nods. "Sure, why not. There's a game on that night anyway."

There's a swagger in Neal's step that Peter hadn't noticed before as he walks back to his desk. Neal's smile is bright and genuine when he looks back and meets Peter's eyes before sitting down and picking up his phone.

***

On Thursday, Neal leaves work early to get ready for the Opera (an event which Peter absolutely refuses to call a date). They're still working on cleaning up Keirnan's operation, and Neal isn't really needed, and mostly gets in the way at this stage anyway. Peter generally prefers to keep Neal in the office and therefore out of trouble, but today he doesn't protest when Neal leaves directly after paying his half of their lunch tab. 

El is still in the shower when he gets home, so he goes up to say hello, knowing she won't hear him otherwise. As he approaches the bathroom he can hear El humming above the sounds of the water, but he can't identify the melody. This is nothing new; Peter may like to believe that she's perfect, but as much as she likes to sing in the shower, she can't carry a tune to save her life. Something he learned the first time she stayed over at his place.  The door to the bathroom is closed, but Peter opens it anyway, getting a face full of steam as he does so. 

"Is that you, honey?" El asks without opening the curtain.

"Are you expecting someone else?" Peter says.

"Just Neal," El says. 

"I should hope you're not expecting him to join you in here," Peter says. 

The water stops and El's face pokes around the edge of the curtain. She's smiling widely, a wrung out tail of hair falling over her shoulder. 

She stretches up to kiss him squarely on the lips, lingering a bit before pulling back. "Pass me my towel?"

Peter unfolds it and wraps it around her before pulling her against his chest. It's a routine that they've been through many times before, but tonight El pulls away after just a few seconds. "Not now, honey. I have to get ready."

Peter frowns above her head (An hour and a half should really be more than enough time), but he kisses her hairline before letting her go and disappears into the bedroom to change out of his suit. El's dress is hanging on the door, and just seeing it on the hanger makes Peter's breath catch. She hasn't worn it for a few years, not since the last time she invited Peter to one of her bigger functions in a hotel downtown. For a split second, he wishes he was going with them, but Neal is right, opera isn't his thing, and there really is a game on tonight that he's happy to be able to watch uninterrupted. 

  


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El comes into the bedroom wrapped in a towel and starts digging around in her top drawer. "There's leftovers and a new six-pack of in the fridge," she tells him. "Don't work too much."

"I don't plan to," he says. "There's a Ranger's game tonight."

Peter's not hungry yet, so he leaves the food where it is and just grabs a beer. Despite what he told El, Peter had wanted to get some work done, but after a long day at the office, the couch is the more inviting option, and he figures that it's not going to kill him or their case to take the night off.  

The game is well into the second period when El comes down the stairs, dress shimmering slightly, heels clacking on the wood of the stairs.  Peter can't help himself, he gets up and goes to meet her at the bottom of the staircase. "You look beautiful," he tells her. "Now I remember why I married you."

"Like I'd let you forget," she retorts, smacking him on the arm. 

"And that's it, right there." They share a laugh. It's a conversation that's familiar and comforting, something Peter doesn't know he needs until the doorbell rings, breaking the moment. 

Since Peter's closer to the door, he opens it, knowing full well that it's Neal. But when the door swings open and he sees the suit Neal is wearing tonight, he suddenly feels odd, maybe out of place, sandwiched between El's radiance and Neal's elegance. Peter does the only thing he knows how to do, and bows out to go fetch El's good coat from the closet. 

By the time Peter gets back, Neal has come inside and he's standing close to El, their heads bent together, discussing the opera they're about to see. They fall silent as Peter helps her on with her coat. She stands up on her toes and whispers, "I love you," in his ear before giving him a quick kiss. She takes Neal's arm and Peter holds the door for them as they make their way down the sidewalk to the town car that's waiting at the curb. 

"Have her back by midnight," Peter says after El is safely in the car, but before Neal is. The "Or you're back inside" is silent but perfectly understood. It's an empty threat, and they both know it. Even in the dim light Peter can see Neal's smirk before he climbs in the opposite side and the car takes off.  

***

Peter is trying to read and checking the clock every minute or so by the time he finally hears the door. Neal's voice is quiet enough that Peter can't make out the words, but he can clearly hear El's "he's still awake, probably watching the clock." 

"Thank you," he hears her say to Neal a minute later. The door shuts, and Peter picks up his book again to at least have the pretense of reading. El will see through it in a minute anyway. 

The second she steps through the bedroom door, Peter wonders why he even bothered with the book. She's almost literally glowing with energy, all smiles and swishes. She tosses her coat on the chair in the corner (something she never, ever does) and climbs onto the bed, still wearing her dress. When she takes the book from his hand and closes it, tossing it carelessly aside, Peter opens his mouth to protest, but El gives him a look, telling him in no uncertain terms that she knows he wasn't reading it, and he's smart enough to remember where he was anyway, without the aid of a bookmark. 

She reaches down and pulls his shirt up, running her hands up his chest, using it to steady herself as she leans in and kisses him, hard, demanding, swallowing any questions or comments Peter might have had about her night out.  They stay connected at the mouth even as she slides off and begins to peel off her stockings, one at a time, only pulling away as she starts to lose her balance. Peter sits up straighter to help her, but a look and a raised finger keep him in his place. In all the years they've known each other, El has never been shy about demanding what she wants, either from the chef at their favorite Italian place or from him in bed. But moods like this are rare, and Peter knows well enough to go along for the ride when it happens. So while she removes her dress and tosses it with her coat, Peter peels back the sheets and sheds his own shirt, tossing it at her the moment she looks back up at him. It hits her in the face, but she just smiles and lets it fall to the floor. 

In no time flat, she's back on the bed. She's done minimal undressing, knowing that he likes to do some of it himself (and vice versa, he left his pajama bottoms on for a reason, too), so while she leans in to kiss him again, he snakes one hand behind her back and unhooks her bra, peeling the straps down her arms and off. He throws it somewhere else, but doesn't look to see where it lands. They'll find it in the morning, or three days later when he's looking under the dresser for his favorite pen that's gone missing yet again. Smoothing his hands down the uninterrupted skin of her back, he groans as she does the same to his chest, sliding back on his legs just enough so that she can get him to reposition, flat on his back, head on her pillow and legs almost dangling off the bed. 

In the dim light of his bedside lamp, the sight of her mostly naked and moving above him is breathtaking. He's been hard almost from the moment she sashayed into the room, but now it's all he can think about. Her nails scraping his nipples send pinpricks of sensation straight to his cock. She kisses her way down his chest, following the trails her fingers are making, until finally she finds his waistband and tugs.

Peter shifts as much as he needs to until the pants are down below his ass, and with El's help, in a heap on the floor. His dick is standing straight up, begging for attention, but El shifts her mouth to his hip as she moves back up to kiss him, hair brushing him softly and causing him to shiver in the best way possible. She straddles him again, her silky underwear forming a barrier between them. Peter can feel her heat through the fabric, each tiny shift of her hips slowly driving him crazy. 

Unable to take any more waiting, Peter reaches for the waist of her panties, only to find his hands caught in her grip and brought up above his head. She stops what she's doing long enough to give him a look that says _if you had handcuffs anywhere near here, they'd be on your wrists faster than you can say 'catch me.'_ Peter takes the hint, and grips the pillow behind his head. It takes every ounce of self control he has left to keep them there when El rolls off him suddenly, and shimmies her hips quickly until she's (finally) tossing her underwear to the floor, too. Peter thinks they landed somewhere near her bra, but he knows from experience that they'll turn up tomorrow morning in the toe of his work shoes. 

Before he can blink, she's on top of him again, sliding onto him as she throws her head back exposing the smooth lines of her throat. She's holding onto the headboard for leverage as she moves up and down, varying her movement randomly, keeping them both on edge. Peter's still gripping the pillow, but he lets go when she calls out his name, her voice throaty and breathless. His hands move immediately to her hips, not gripping, just resting there; she's still controlling their motion. Almost involuntarily, Peter shifts his hips up to meet hers, getting another low moan for his efforts. El hasn't protested his newly-freed hands so he takes the opportunity to slide them up to her breasts, thumbs scraping her nipples every so often. 

He can feel her muscles tighten under his hands, and knows she's close, so he moves his hands down to her hips again, this time using one thumb to seek out her clit, letting her movement guide him, keeping up the light touch he knows she prefers. The movement in her hips speeds up, and he matches her, beat for beat until he feels her entire body contract, she freezes where she is for just a few seconds, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Body still tight, she starts moving again, steadily this time, faster. Peter's orgasm hits before he fully processes that it is; it's both sudden and a long time coming by the time he lets out his breath, feeling it sweep through him from his spine out to his fingers where they're gripping El's hips. She's still moving, but slower now, gentler, even though they're both breathing hard. She leans down to kiss him, and Peter can feel both their heartbeats, strong and slightly out of sync. The dissonance keeps sending tingling waves down his spine, and he hopes she can feel it too. 

After a long pause where they're both catching their breath she rolls off him, and curls up close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder, hand over his heart. He links his fingers with hers and watches as her eyes drift closed, his own following soon after.

Maybe minutes, maybe hours later, Peter blinks awake and finds that they've fallen asleep with the light on again. Peter's not fully awake as he performs the familiar routine of straightening them out on the bed, and making sure the covers are securely tucked around them. Once that's done, he switches off the light. In the split second between the light disappearing and his eyes adjusting to the change, Peter thinks he sees the same dark hair framing a much more angular jaw on the pillow next to him. In that one second, he's perfectly comfortable with the idea, and he's still smiling as he wraps himself around El and falls asleep again. 

Three weeks later, Neal comes into his office, again asking if he can take Elizabeth to the theater. Peter asks more questions than are necessary, and gives Neal hell for keeping her out so late the last time. Really, though, he knows he'll say yes the minute Neal steps into the office with the question.

***  
On Monday, when Peter is driving Neal home, they pull up at the house just in time to see Elizabeth shake June's hand and turn to leave the house.

"What did you do?" Peter asks, because with Neal in his life he doesn't believe in coincidence anymore.

"June is throwing a party in a few weeks. I gave her the name of the best event planner I know." Neal's voice is perfectly innocent, but he's smirking slightly and Peter has a feeling that there's more to the story. A direct question won't get him the answers he wants, though, so he just says, "The only event planner you know."

"I own a bakery," Neal counters. "They cater, too."

"So why my wife?"

"I'm still trying to make up for ... things," Neal says, with a sweeping gesture. There's an edge to his voice, and Peter doesn't like it. Neal isn't so much confessing as forcing himself to confess to something.

There's something off about the whole situation, but before Peter can put his finger on it, El knocks on his window. Once he rolls it down, she leans in and kisses him.

"Perfect timing, honey," she says.

Just like that, whatever energy was reaching the breaking point around Neal dissipates and he steps out of the car, holding the door for Elizabeth. She kisses his cheek and he whispers something in her ear that makes her smile before getting into the car. Neal taps the roof twice in the universal signal for _all good, you can leave now_ and turns to head up the walkway. Peter sticks around just long enough to see him glance back at the car before pulling out into traffic.

Peter's suspicions are confirmed the night of the party. He receives a formal invitation, even though he's not sure exactly why, other than that El is going to oversee; Peter is absolutely sure that Neal is behind his invitation, not El. He arrives early, with Neal, as they've just come from the Bureau. El is flitting around the room dealing with different vendors, but she lights up when she sees him comes over to say hi and tell him that there's a change of clothes waiting for him in Neal's room, and would he please put them on? Peter hadn't thought about his clothing for the party, but when he thinks about it, he does need to change.

Neal closes and locks the door behind them and goes to where his own suit is hanging wrinkle-free on the wardrobe door.

"You were right, Peter," Neal starts as he undoes his tie.

Peter has an unpleasant feeling growing in his stomach. "About what," he asks, half-knowing the answer already.

"This isn't just a party," Neal starts his explanation. Peter opens his mouth to ask if Neal has gone stark raving mad, but Neal continues before he even gets half a syllable out. "A few months ago, June started noticing some anomalies in her finances. At first, she thought it was just the market; it's been a bad year for everyone. She asked me to take a look last week. She's right; the anomalies could easily be explained by an inept manager and market fluctuations. But Robert has been handling June's finances for twenty years now, and there's never been a problem like this. So I did some digging and found out that there's a new board member at the firm. He's been there six months, which is right before June started having problems."

"And you thought throwing a party for this guy would be a good idea?" Peter is speaking in a harsh whisper. Not because he doesn't want to be overheard (the only person who would be able to hear him is Neal anyway), but because if he doesn't, he'll be shouting, and he doesn't want to risk making this a bigger fight than it's going to be anyway. He has a feeling that he's going to need Neal on his side for this one. "Why didn't you bring this straight to me? This is what I do. This is what _we_ do."

"I don't have any evidence," Neal counters, "just a hunch. I need to talk to this guy."

"No, you don't. _I_ need to talk to this guy. Preferably with a wire and backup stationed outside."

"You think he won't make you for a Fed the moment you open your mouth?"

The comment stings, but Neal keeps going.

"You're good undercover, Peter, but this isn't your world. I'm not sure yet that anything is even going on, but I can work both Robert and the new board member for information without them suspecting anything. If I find something, I promise that I will bring June into the office tomorrow to file a report first thing."

Neal has won, and they both know it.

"Trust me," Neal says, looking straight into Peter's eyes.

"If anything happens to Elizabeth --" Peter begins.

"Maximum security," Neal interrupts.

Peter ignores him and keeps talking, "--they'll never find your body."

"Death threats. That's refreshing," Neal says, turning his back and letting his now-unbuttoned shirt slip off his shoulders.

A youth filled with sports and locker rooms has taught Peter that the polite thing to do is turn your back until the other person in the room is dressed. And he would, except that his suit is laid out nicely on Neal's bed, and given that it's now 7:00pm, guests should be arriving any minute. From what Neal said, they will need to be downstairs for pretty much the entire evening if they have a hope of actually getting enough information to proceed. And so, Peter steps forward and loosens his own tie and collar.

When Peter's shirt is halfway undone, Neal turns around, still without a shirt on, and hands a few hangers to Peter. He reaches out to accept them, knowing by feel exactly where they will be, which is a good thing because he can't seem to tear his eyes away from Neal's chest. Neal has much more definition than Peter would have expected, and the sprinkling of freckles on his shoulders makes him look like he just spent the day on the beach somewhere tropical and much warmer than New York in early spring. For as long as Peter has known Neal, he's never been able to study him so closely before, and he's loathe to give up the opportunity, but as soon as his hands close around the hangers, he remembers that there are more important things at stake, and he shouldn't be thinking along those lines anyway.

The rest of the time getting ready is spent in not-quite-comfortable silence. 

By the time they make it back downstairs, there are a few new people milling around, glasses in hand and careful smiles on their faces. June is stationed close to the door so that she can greet all new guests, and El is over by the kitchen half-supervising the catering staff while keeping an eye on the guests. It's rare that Peter gets to see her so in her element and it makes him smile. He takes half a step over to join her, but Neal's hand on his arm stops him. 

"You can talk to her later. We need to be introduced to Robert right now. The longer you're around, the more he'll trust you later."

Sparing a glance over at El, who is not paying the slightest bit of attention to them, Peter follows Neal over to where June is speaking to a man Peter presumes to be Robert. He's taller than she is, even though his posture is slightly hunched over. His smile doesn't quite go all the way, and the corners of his eyes betray his worry. A step or two before they join the conversation, Peter hears Neal mutter, "let me do the talking tonight." Peter would protest, but he's already in way deeper than he would like, and the life raft is just out of his reach. 

June sees their approach and turns away from her guest just enough to widen the circle from two to four. "Robert," she starts, "I'd like to introduce you to Neal Caffrey, and Edgar Tannenbaum." 

Peter is startled to hear that name again, but he quickly remembers the situation he's in and schools his face so as not to betray the cover story. 

"Neal is a friend of the family," June continues. "Neal, Edgar, this is Robert Lewis, my finanicial advisor."

"Caffrey," Robert says, trying on the name for size. "It sounds familiar. Do you have family in the city?"

"Neal just moved back to New York from upstate," June says. Peter can see the moment Robert places the name. He watches as Roger does a surreptitious check of his jacket pocket. It seems to be a reflex movement, as Neal hasn't been close enough to Robert to actually get the wallet, but Peter can appreciate the instinct. It's saved him from embarrassment more than once now. He catches Neal's eye and they share a quick, private smile before focusing on the conversation again.

"So tell me Neal," Robert says, "What are you doing with yourself these days?"

"I'm working on a few small projects, chasing down some leads for work," Neal says. "June was kind enough to take me in while I look. Not many places are willing to hire an ex-con, especially these days."

Peter knows that's a flat out lie, he's been on the other end of Neal's powers of persuasion enough times to know that Neal could talk his way into any job in the country even without Fed backing.   _He's playing an angle,_ Peter realizes. And he suddenly knows that Neal was prepared to have Peter walk out on this project, reject the idea out of hand and call in backup from the Bureau. Neal doesn't fully trust him, Peter realizes. It's to be expected, as Peter's still first and foremost a Fed, and Neal is still a criminal, but he thought that after everything there was at least enough trust between them for Neal to not need as many backup plans as he no doubt has. Peter's about to peel away from the gathering and go talk to El when Neal slides almost imperceptibly closer, switches his wine glass to his other hand and lays his newly free hand on Peter's back. 

The touch is instantly calming, and as soon as Peter can breathe again, he spares a sideways glance at Neal, only to find that Neal is doing the same. 

More people arrive, including Mozzie, but since Neal seems to be ignoring him, so too does Peter. They stay close together, and never more than a few paces away from Robert for the entire night. Peter thinks it's just his imagination that Neal is hovering closer than he needs to, constantly smiling, smirking or just looking up at him. Neal constantly has a drink in one hand, but his spare hand seems to always find its way to Peter somehow, either on his shoulder, his arm, the small of his back. Maybe it's the champagne Peter is sipping (from a glass that seems to never empty, El's catering staff are certainly doing their job well) but Peter swears that he can feel the echo of each time Neal has touched him tonight.

Later, when Peter can no longer quite identify exactly where they are connected, Neal's strategy seems to have paid off when Robert turns from the man he's talking to, and makes a motion for Neal to join him. The pressure of Neal's hand on his back brings Peter with them too.

They're introduced to Scott McIntire, and every instinct Peter has knows that this is who they're after. Neal most likely feels it too, which is why he's not looking at Peter for the first time all night. Instead, Peter seeks out El's face and finds it almost instantly. She smiles at him before turning back to her conversation with Mozzie. Their unlikely friendship puzzles Peter, but he's grateful for it in some strange way. In three years when Neal disappears on them (and Peter knows that he will as soon as the anklet is cut for good), he has a feeling that Mozzie will still be around; harder to find, no doubt, but there, in the background if they need him.

Scott's eyes are a little too bright, his smiles a little too wide and his gestures a little too enthusiastic. Peter sees the grimace on Neal's face when they shake hands, and wonders if it's because Scott is gripping too hard or not enough. There's nothing more untrustworthy than a weak handshake. Shortly after the introduction they were after all along, Scott checks his watch and makes an excuse to slip out the front door after a cursory 'thank you' to June. 

Before he can think about it, Peter reaches for his phone to call Diana and have her start an inquiry into one Scott McIntire, so that there will be a stack of files waiting for him to dig into in the morning. For once he is grateful for Neal's habit of lifting his wallet or whatever else he may have in his pocket because his phone is gone, replaced by a single folded tissue. Peter appreciates the rescue and makes a show of blowing his nose instead of blowing their cover. 

Now that their target has left, Peter looks around the room to find that most everyone else is gone as well, and his glass is finally empty. Neal takes his leave of the rest of the party and drags Peter with him upstairs, where a pair of jeans and a t-shirt is waiting for him. He wonders how he missed it the first time, but then realizes that El must have snuck up at some point and left them for him to find. 

The door clicks shut behind Neal, and he's once again at Peter's side. This time, though, Neal's hands are in his pockets, even though he is standing closer than he normally would. "Thank you," he says quietly. Peter can hear the sincerity in his tone, but more importantly, he can read it in Neal's body. Neal is rock-still, eyes wide and focused. 

They're standing toe to toe, and Peter's not sure exactly why, but instead of saying "you're welcome" out loud, he leans forward a few inches and kisses Neal, mouthing the words against his lips. Something unclenches in Peter's stomach, and all at once, every spot where Neal touched him tonight comes back to life, as though it's all happening _now_. The kiss is little more than the gentle slide and press of lips, and when Peter pulls away he can't tell exactly how long it lasted. What he does know is that Neal's eyelashes are fluttering and his breathing is faster, matching Peter's own. 

Another beat later, Neal's eyes open. "Peter," he whispers, the word sounding strange and perfect spilling out of his mouth in such a low tone. Peter's arms feel like lead, immobile, or else he'd do something, like pull Neal close and kiss him again despite the fact that he knows exactly how bad an idea it would be. Perhaps knowing what's going to happen if they don't move, Neal breaks first and takes a step back, retreating to the kitchen area and pulling out another bottle of wine. Peter turns just in time to see that there are now a few bottles of beer in the fridge, his favorite brand. He's about to comment when there's a knock on the door and El comes in, blissfully unaware of the fact that she's either rescued them both from doing something stupid or broken something between them irrevocably. 

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"Ready to go, Peter?" She asks, not waiting for an answer. She crosses the room to say goodnight to Neal, kissing him on the cheek before grabbing the jeans that Peter didn't have a chance to change into and taking his arm, steering him out the door. 

He wonders just how much she knows, but decides not to ask. At least not yet; they can talk about it later, if ever. 

***  
Despite Neal's promise to bring June to the office in the morning, Peter is half-expecting him to come waltzing through their door during breakfast. It's not until he's on his last bite of cereal that he realizes that he's disappointed when it doesn't actually happen. All he knows is that he needs to talk to Neal, about the case, about last night, about anything at all. He's jumpy, and he knows that it has to do with Neal somehow, and that he's going to be worried about Neal leaving until he lays eyes on him again. He could easily call the marshals or Jones or Diana and get an update on Neal's movements, but for the first time since their whole arrangement started, checking up on him feels like a violation of some sort. At the very least, he hasn't received a call that Neal is out of bounds, and so he clings to that as he dresses for work. 

While he's refilling his coffee in the kitchen, El comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. 

"It's ok, you know," she says into his back, squeezing harder for a few seconds before letting go completely. He turns to ask what she means, but she's ten steps away and heading out the door before he can get a word out. 

For all the times Neal has accused him of being a terrible driver, Peter chalked it up to Neal trying to get under his skin. But this morning he knows that it's absolutely true. He nearly runs into two parked cars and three pedestrians before pulling into his parking spot in the building's garage. He's also been flipped off more times this morning than in the last year, if his counts are correct; and that's only the ones he's able to see. He takes a moment to catch his breath and wonder why the hell he's so out of breath anyway, before getting out of the car and heading inside. 

Neal's desk by the door is immaculate as usual, and Peter can't tell offhand if anything's been moved or not. The one thing he can tell for sure is that the chair is empty, and for one second he thinks that he's right, Neal bolted. But then he looks up and through the glass of his office sees Neal and June sitting in the two chairs by his desk. Neal looks relaxed, perfectly at home, one leg crossed over the other while June is stiff-backed, nervously toying with the tabs in a stack of folders. She's been in the office several times since Neal first moved into her spare room, but this is the first time that she's been here for herself and not for Neal. 

"Well you did say 'first thing,'" Peter says as he enters the office. 

"I made a promise," Neal replies. Peter watches as he exchanges a look with June, the two of them waiting patiently while Peter settles in for the day. 

Once he's seated, he breaks the silence and turns to June. "Neal gave me a short version of what happened. Why don't you give me the details?" 

"Over the past six months, I believe nearly two million dollars has gone missing from various accounts," she starts, pushing her stack of documents towards Peter. She continues speaking, and he takes notes on what she's saying, marks parts of the documents that she points out and calls Diana in a few times to look something up for him while they're still in conference. 

Neal is unusually quiet, and Peter is unsure as to whether it's because of what happened last night or out of respect for June, since this is her meeting after all. Peter refuses to dwell on it; he needs to stay focused on the new case. 

By the time they finish, it's nearly 1:00pm, and Peter is left wondering where the day went. His internal clock tells him that the meeting couldn't have been more than an hour, but the debris of notes, coffee cups, and the sheer volume of post-its scattered around his desk that he's sure weren't there before say otherwise. Neal leaves with June after promising to be back later, and Peter starts rearranging everything into an organized file so that he can delegate research to other agents. By 'other' Peter really means Jones and Diana. He needs the best on this one, partly because it's June, who he considers to be a friend of sorts, and partly because if the numbers are right, this McIntire has probably pulled in over $50 million from June and other clients of the firm. He needs to close this one fast, and put this man behind bars.

Elizabeth calls sometime after they leave to see if everything is ok, to which Peter replies that it is, but he can tell that Elizabeth doesn't believe him. "I love you," he says before he hangs up.

"I know," she says, "I love you too." Her tone is calm and comforting, an anchor for him, just as it's always been; just as _she's_ always been. Fifteen years in, he still sometimes wonders how he made it through Quantico without her at his side. Peter has been even more thankful for the fact that she's still in his life and still loves him ever since Neal walked out of prison and into their lives. Peter's had any number of CIs and consultants over the years; some lasted longer than others and some of the more short-lived ones were more memorable, but never has anyone taken up so much space in Peter's life so _comfortably_ , but then again, Neal has always been exceptional. And exceptionally charming. 

Neal reappears a few hours later and Peter takes him through the now more-organized case. They have a plan of attack hinged on Neal being invited to join the firm and a back-up plan should that not actually work out. If Peter is honest with himself, the back-up plan, which requires a massive number of court orders and subpoenas, is weak, but he trusts that Neal will be able to get inside. This may be one time where having his criminal record known will help rather than hinder their efforts.

Just after 5:00, when Peter is trying to wrap up for the day, Neal comes into his office holding his phone.

"It's McIntire," he says. "I told him I was taking the call somewhere more private."

Peter takes the hint that he needs to be silent while Neal puts the call on speaker. They exchange a quick glance as Neal puts the phone down on the table, and takes the phone off mute. 

"Sorry about that," Neal said.

The conversation unfolds exactly the way Peter expects it too. McIntire needs another clever, charming trader on his staff, and Neal presents his best charm. By the time Neal hangs up, he has a lucrative offer from a top financial firm and an invitation to dinner at one of the new hot spots in the city.  Within another five minutes, Peter's arranged for Jones and Diana to be stationed outside, and for Neal to wear a wire so that they can record anything McIntire might say to give himself away.

"You know you're going to have to take the job," Peter says.

Neal nods. "McIntire trusts me already," Neal says. "Not completely, but enough. I can get the records we need within a few weeks."

"I need to talk to Hughes," Peter says. He knows they're going to have to cut the anklet, but he won't tell Neal that quite yet. 

Peter had expressly told El he'd be home for dinner, but she understands that he has to cancel to run surveillance on the meeting tonight. This meeting is a rare chance for him to get to see Neal work his mark when he's just starting out on a long game (well, longer than most they run these days), and this operation is truly Neal's design. It might be enough to get the leash relaxed a bit, and maybe get the anklet removed early. It's not something he's ready to talk about with anyone other than Hughes.

The dinner goes amazingly well, even though McIntire doesn't talk about anything they really need to hear. Neal does take the job offer, starting after the long weekend. _Good_ , Peter thinks. He has time to figure out a game plan. 

On Tuesday morning, Peter drops by June's as Neal is getting dressed for work. It's a common enough occurrence that June generally makes extra coffee these days. Today, though, he's carrying a pair of scissors and a pen case. 

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Neal asks when he opens the door.

"We're cutting your anklet for this. We're not taking any chances of them finding out you work for us." Peter pauses. He spent the weekend researching McIntire, and what he found wasn't pretty. Nothing concrete enough to convict, and definitely nothing to lead them to where June's money went, but enough that he doesn't want to contemplate what would happen to Neal if he was discovered. "McIntire has some shady business ties," is what he eventually says, and lets Neal fill in the blanks himself. 

Neal reaches out and takes the pen case. "This looks familiar," he says, taking the Eagle and tucking it into his pocket. "Will you be outside the office?"

"Jones, Diana and I will run surveillance outside during the day. Because we don't know how long this is going to take, we're going to keep you off the anklet until it's done." Peter watches while this sinks in. "Hughes and the rest of the bureau think you're going to run."  Peter thinks he sees pain on Neal's face at the accusation. "I told them that I trust you," Peter continues. "Prove me right."

"I have no reason to run," Neal says, sounding defeated. Peter follows the line of his eyes and finds the bottle, sitting by itself on a shelf. A shrine, of sorts. 

They finish their coffee in silence.

The entire day is nerve wracking for Peter, and he sits it out in the surveillance truck. It's not that he doesn't trust his agents or that he doesn't trust Neal. The person he's most worried about is McIntire, and what he'll do if he finds out who Neal really is, and what he's doing. Neal's using his real name on this one, and it's certainly no secret that he's been working with the Feds. Neal is good at what he does (much to Peter's dismay at times) but even he can't control the flow of information in New York City. If there were room to walk in the truck, Peter would be pacing.

Around noon, Diana kicks him out. "Get some air, Boss."

He doesn't have any plans to meet with El, so he heads down to her office, and paces outside the shop next door while El wraps up with a client. It is probably only a few minutes (even if it feels longer) before the clients walk out and El gently leads him into the back where her office actually is. She pushes him down into the couch and sits next to him.

"What's wrong, honey?" she asks.

Peter's not sure he can put all of his worries into words, so he just pulls her close and says, "It's Neal." 

Elizabeth doesn't say anything, which is exactly what Peter needed her to do, even if he hadn't known it before sitting down on her office couch. Eventually, he finds the right words and the whole thing comes spilling out, from the reason June threw the party to what Neal is up to now, along with the fact that he'd taken off the anklet. 

When Peter is finished speaking, she kisses him and says, "Trust him," before getting up and straightening her clothing. "and get out. I have a meeting in a few minutes and having my husband moping on my couch isn't going to do me any favors."

Peter smiles and does as he's told, but not before hugging her closely for a few minutes. "Thank you," he mumbles into her hair. 

The rest of the day passes without incident, and by the end of business they have the names of most of the high-ranking accountants at the firm.  He turns over the list to Jones and Diana with the understanding that they'll get any relevant info by tomorrow morning. They've both worked with him enough to know exactly what information he's looking for. Peter stays and continues to listen, even though it's practically silent now. Almost everyone has gone home, but it's nearly six by the time Neal's transmitter goes out of range. 

Neal hasn't made any dinner plans with McIntire, but that's not a guarantee that he's going home, especially without the tracker. Peter takes a gamble and catches a taxi to the office before driving over to June's. Peter had told Hughes that he'd check on Neal nightly, as the Bureau was still a bit jumpy over having Neal off the anklet for the entire operation. 

June answers the door and greets him with a smile before telling him that Neal is upstairs. Peter hesitates for half a second, remembering the last time he was here, but June breaks the tension by telling him that Neal is expecting him. There's nothing for Peter to do but continue up the stairs. The door is closed, so Peter knocks. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the door opens and Peter has to speak.

"Checking up on me?" Neal asks.

"Hughes' condition," Peter says, "not mine." He stresses the last part, not knowing why he's so desperate for Neal to understand that the nightly checkups aren't his idea. 

"Come in, have a drink," Neal says, stepping back and opening the door further.  "I've got something to show you."

There's already an open bottle of wine and a half-empty glass on the table, along with a spread of paper and an open attaché case. Peter grabs a beer from the fridge and sits down, pulling the papers to him. On first glance, they're just account statements, standard end of the month summaries. But Neal's circled some numbers, so Peter concentrates on those.

An hour and a few drinks later, they have their answer on how McIntire is doing it. It looks like typos, but a 9 changed to a 6 here, 8s and 3s there, and suddenly hundreds of thousands of dollars are missing without anyone looking too closely. Peter suspects that these are the statements that aren't sent to clients, otherwise they'd have put this guy behind bars ages ago. "There must be someone duplicating the statements," Peter says out loud.

"Me," says Neal. "The last guy they had quit after a few months. Apparently my reputation as a master forger is what McIntire is interested in, not my way of placating clients."

Peter rolls his eyes. Neal's reputation isn't one to be proud of, at least in his mind. Once he knows that Neal has seen his reaction, he refocuses on the case. "This is too easy," Peter says. "There's got to be more going on."

"I'm good, but there's no way a man with McIntire's connections would bring someone new into the fold so quickly. Especially if the word is out that I've worked with the Feds recently.  If you go in now, armed with these statements he'll shut down, move somewhere else and we'll never find out what he's really up to."

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"Anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. I don't have a read on how paranoid he is yet." 

Peter thinks he knows what's coming, but he denies it until it comes out.

"You need to stop coming here for a while." Neal sounds almost depressed as he says it. 

Peter starts to protest, but Neal cuts him off.

"It's too easy to trace you back to the Bureau. A man like McIntire is going to have a lot of foot soldiers, and there's no telling what they're up to, or if they followed me here. If they know we're talking, I may get cut out."

Much as he wants to protest, Peter knows that Neal is right. They can't be seen together until Neal knows more about the target. 

"I promise I won't run," Neal says, "We're doing this for June and for anyone else who has had their money stolen by this guy. I want to catch him just as much as you."

"This is never going to fly with Hughes," Peter says. "He's going to want to put you back on the anklet."

"I'll call you," Neal says, "every night. You still have that phone I gave you?"

"I don't like it."

"You have to trust me," Neal says. 

They sit looking at each other for a while before Peter blurts out, "Don't make me regret it." He knows he's made the right call when Neal's expression doesn't turn bright or joyful, just more determined. Peter knows that he really does want to catch the guy. 

"I need to get home," Peter says.

Neal walks him to the door, but before opening it, he grabs Peter and kisses him hard. Neal's hands are everywhere; at Peter's waist, in his hair, grabbing his tie. It takes a minute, but as soon as Peter leans in, Neal pulls away. 

"June introduced us the other night as partners," Neal says, "you need a cover for such a short visit in case they're watching me. Look angry on the way out and it'll look like we had a fight."

Neal gently pushes him out the door, and Peter prays that he doesn't run into June. June may be amenable to making the introduction, but she knows both of them, and more importantly, knows Elizabeth. He's not sure how much he should tell her about the investigation at this early stage, and there are too many other questions she could ask about his appearance. It's just as well that the house seems to be empty of others.

They fall into a holding pattern for the next two weeks. Peter does surveillance on the office during the day, Diana and Jones chase down any leads after everyone goes home. Peter sends equipment over to June's so that Neal can upload any recordings made out of range of the truck. Every night, at 9pm on the dot, Neal calls. 

They talk quickly, with Neal saying as much as he can as fast as he can and Peter scribbling notes with names and dates and places to check into. El talks to June under the guise of planning another party sometime in the future.  

After two weeks, at 9:00, just when Peter is toying with his phone, waiting for Neal's nightly call, there's a knock on the door. Peter is only half paying attention because he's waiting for the phone to ring, but he looks up when he hears Neal's voice greeting Elizabeth.

"What are you doing here?" Peter demands. 

"Relax, Peter," Neal says, coming in and sitting down on the couch. "McIntire's not following me. Besides, I have something to show you."

Neal opens his case and produces a sheaf of documents. A printout of a database, it looks like. Names, numbers, totals. 

"He keeps all of the records on his own personal computer, encrypted. I managed to get access to the hard drive today. Peter, there are hundreds of people here, and he's been stealing from all of them. The only thing I don't know yet is where the money is going. Where he keeps it." 

"I've done some digging of my own," Peter says. "He's got a few safe deposit boxes in different banks around the city. I'm guessing he keeps some of it as cash. The rest is either in an offshore account or being cleaned before going back into his personal account. We're going to need records of his checks from the firm to compare to his known accounts. I'll get Jones and Diana on it first thing."

They fall silent, Neal cleaning up his papers and Peter leaning back into the couch, watching. He's missed Neal, more than he'd known. The nightly phone calls helped, but they'd worked well as a team together, reaching each other's body language and taking almost imperceptible clues on what needed to be done next. Peter focuses on Neal now. 

There's something off about his posture, his movements a little too stiff, his eyes darting around the room. He looks like he's going to run any moment, like he'd rather be anywhere else. Once the papers are put away, El offers coffee, Neal accepts, and they sit around chatting for an hour until El excuses herself and goes up to bed and Neal goes home. 

Peter decides as he's closing and locking the door that he's going to tell Ell what's been going on, but it takes him half an hour to make it up the stairs, ten minutes to brush his teeth and another twenty of pretending to read before he does. 

"I kissed Neal," he says, finally. He's staring at the wall across from the bed. He doubts that El is going to leave right then and there, but he has a hard time believing it until he feels her scoot closer into his side.

"I know," she tells him. 

And just like that, Peter finds his voice again. He tells her how he could never say no to Neal, from the very beginning. He tells her about the first time he consciously noticed how beautiful Neal is, how it hit him like a freighter, the same way it had when he met her. He tells her about the party at June's, from his fascination with Neal's body to the kiss at the end of the night. She says nothing, just holds his hand and lets him speak his piece. 

Somewhere in trying to describe what was so damned different about Neal tonight, he runs out of steam and slumps down in the bed, rolling on his side so that he can look her in the eye. "I love you," he says, meeting her eyes. Her eyes that are the exact same shade as Neal's. 

"I know," she says, "I love you too. No matter what."

***

For the next few days Peter feels like he's jumping out of his skin. He skips out on the surveillance, and spends his days at the office, poring over every recording, every bit of paper they have on McIntire. He wants to be sure he knows exactly what he's doing when he files the warrants for McIntire's bank accounts and the company's financials. He knows McIntire's personal computer is going to have to be on the list, and if he tips his hand too early they won't get a damned thing. 

It takes until Friday for them to have the evidence they need for the warrants. They hit the Manhattan banks first, seizing thousands of dollars in cash and a slew of files that were locked up in various safe deposit boxes. He was smart not to put everything in one place, no one set of files enough to put together the complete picture.

Put together, they tell a different story. Once that evidence is assembled, Peter takes immense pleasure in walking in to the firm, papers in hand and going straight for McIntire's office. They catch him off guard, still working on the computer, Neal looking over his shoulder advising him on something. Whatever Neal is telling him it's just the distraction they need because the courtesy knock on the door startles McIntire. Before he can do anything to delete his records, Neal steps between him and the computer, cutting off his access until Peter can get his cuffs out. 

This time, when Peter is cuffing McIntire, Neal is smiling, eyes bright. 

***  
June meets them at the door, clearly anxious to make sure that Neal is safe and sound and almost maternally grateful to Peter for making it happen.

"Please, stay for dinner Peter."

June is a hard woman to say no to, and when he finds himself being double-teamed by her and Neal, Peter agrees, even though he meant to just drop Neal off and go home to El.

"Thank you," June says sincerely, raising her glass to Peter, apparently thinking she needs to repeat it, as if an amazing dinner capped off with a decadently rich chocolate cake weren't enough.

Peter raises his as well, and out of the corner of his eye sees Neal doing the same. They all drink deeply. The wine is a red, and even though Peter's no connoisseur, he knows a great vintage when he tastes it, and he can feels like the already delicious wine is being flavored by their triumph and by the relief of Neal making it out safely. He has a feeling that the mess with McIntire isn't totally over, he did owe a lot of money to a lot of people, but for tonight, at least, Peter knows they can breathe easily.

"I think it's time for me to call it a night." June says, excusing herself, leaving Neal with a fond pat on the shoulder, and Peter with yet another grateful smile.

Once she's gone, the dining room feels too big, and Peter thinks Neal feels it too, because he invites Peter up to his room for a few more drinks.

"Elizabeth is expecting me," Peter starts to say, but the protest doesn't stick, and soon he's sitting on Neal's couch with yet another glass of wine when he'd just meant to grab his briefcase and head home.

Peter watches as Neal leans back and kicks his feet up on the table, crossing one ankle over the other, the hem of his pants riding up just enough to show off the fact that his socks match his shirt. Suddenly, Peter remembers something that he knows he should have dealt with hours ago. He looks at his briefcase sitting on a chair at the table, and knows that sometime tonight he's going to have to get the anklet and put it back on Neal. But there's something about Neal's relaxed posture that stalls him, despite his better judgment.

Without the anklet, Neal seems even more at ease than usual. Peter wonders if he's seeing a glimmer of the man Neal was before the FBI started chasing him or a hint of what Neal will become once he is no longer obligated to work for Peter and the Bureau. Peter just knows that bringing up the subject will shatter the scene in front of him. Instead, he stays silent and takes another sip of wine.

"This isn't bad," Peter says.

"Not bad?" Neal answers, sounding slightly annoyed, as though he can't believe Peter's taste. "This is one of the--"

"I don't need the speech," Peter interrupts. "I just prefer beer." Even though it's an argument they've had many times, Peter's voice is unnecessarily harsh this time. Even he is not sure why.

"I can get you one of those," Neal says, without inflection.

"Don't bother. I need to get home to Elizabeth." Peter drains what's left in his glass and sets it on the table, standing up. He's peripherally aware of Neal mirroring his actions. He sees Neal pick up his empty glass and carry it to the kitchen, so he's completely unprepared when he turns to put his coat on and finds Neal standing right in front of him, too close.

"Stay, Peter," he says, taking the coat out of Peter's hands and hanging it on the back of the chair. Peter is suddenly very aware of the height difference between them; Neal has to look up to meet his eyes.

With Neal standing so close, Peter knows that this is exactly what he wants right now. This is what he'd confessed to Elizabeth. Any uncertainty that was lingering drops away as he sees Neal leaning up. Peter meets him halfway.

It's gentle, at first. As much as Peter wants this, whatever _this_ is, he's aware of their history and all of the unresolved issues between them. He'll always be a Fed, and Neal is still Neal, for all the good work he's done since signing on with the Bureau. They know each other so well in every aspect of their lives except here.

Peter feels Neal's hand come up to the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone, both confident and tentative at the same time. They've kissed twice now, but one was just for show, or so Peter thought at the time.

He places his hand on Neal's hip gently, and feels Neal move into the touch. Neal's other hand is wrapping around his back now, pulling him in, and pretty soon they're pressed tightly against each other. There's an edge to Neal's kisses, but it's not desperation; it's something deeper, and Peter is unsure as to whether it's good or bad.

For now, though, he's going to take what he can get, and so he starts tugging at the back of Neal's shirt. Neal pulling back isn't the reaction he expects.

His face is probably betraying the puzzlement he's feeling because Neal just smiles and says, "I think there's a more comfortable place for this." He's looking pointedly at the bed.

Peter follows, but pauses when they get there. Neal, of course, has the answers. He reaches up and starts to loosen Peter's tie, making short work of the knot and pulling it off completely. From there, he starts in on the buttons of Peter's shirt. Peter can't help but moan a bit as Neal gets enough room to slide his hands inside. He open's Peter's shirt down to his belt, but leaves everything else in place. Once he's finished, Neal steps back, waiting.

Peter takes the hint and reaches out to take off Neal's tie. He opens Neal's shirt, but instead of leaving it undone the way Neal has left his, he pulls it out of his waistband and off Neal's shoulders, taking the time to run his hands over Neal's chest, feeling the subtle shift in his muscles along with his irregular breath. When he can't stand the distance anymore, he pulls Neal to him and kisses him again, with more deliberation this time.

The entire expanse of Neal's back is open to him, and Peter takes the time to explore. Neal's skin is every bit as smooth and warm as he imagined it to be. Neal inhales sharply as Peter runs his fingertips down Neal's spine, spreading his hands over Neal's lower back and slipping the tips of his fingers under Neal's waistband.

The longer they kiss, the more Peter becomes aware that kissing isn't nearly enough. He's hard and he can feel that Neal is, too. If putting his hands down Neal's pants isn't enough then maybe he'll get the reaction he wants by grinding his hips into Neal's. At the very least, it causes Neal to groan against Peter's lips and make a move towards getting Peter entirely out of his shirt.

Peter pulls back just enough to get his hands between them, undoing Neal's belt and zipper and pushing his pants off his hips. Neal stumbles a bit trying to get his shoes off without breaking their contact, but he grips onto Peter and is soon standing there completely naked. Peter takes a chance (not much of one, if he's honest) and moves his hands from Neal's back to his hips and finally wraps one around Neal's cock.

It feels both familiar and different. The angle's all wrong, but Neal's skin is hot, and he's moving his hips slightly, trying to get Peter to do the same with his hand.

Peter has been focusing on Neal, but Neal's low moans remind Peter of his own erection, and the fact that he's still wearing his pants. He lets go of Neal long enough to bring Neal's hands to his own waistband; Neal takes the hint. It's awkward, with all four of their arms trying to do something, but they somehow manage to work it out, and soon they are both naked, standing slightly apart, hands on each other's hips.

Peter looks at Neal for a second, looking at more than just the freckles on his shoulders, the wiry definition to his chest. He's looking for any clue that Neal is uncomfortable with what's happening. He's looking for something that might allow him to back away and claim intoxication or something else. Neal breaks the moment by moving even closer, grabbing Peter's dick firmly. For Peter it's affirmation that they are way past the point of no return; and so, he lets himself fall.

He kisses Neal again, focusing on the sensations from Neal's lips and tongue, from Neal's hands. He's on edge, and has been for a long time, from before Neal enticed him to stay. Either Neal knows exactly what he likes (which is entirely possible) or Peter is just that close because all it takes are a few firm strokes before he's gasping and gripping onto Neal's shoulders and kissing him even harder. Though Peter knew where they were going, he isn't expecting the force of his orgasm; Neal keeps a firm grip on him, moving his hands gently, letting him slowly come down.

Just as Peter is starting to feel like himself again, he's made aware that he's the only one who is. Neal is moving again, shifting his hips against Peter and making it very clear that they're not finished yet.

Peter is not quite fully confident as he reaches down for Neal, because if he knows nothing else, he knows that it's his turn. Neal's muscles are taut as Peter moves his hands across them, and Neal's breathing is barely controlled. He's almost shaking, Peter realizes, but desperately trying not to. Peter pulls back for a second, waits until Neal opens his eyes and meets Peter's. Neal's eyes are wide and his pupils are dilated. Peter keeps Neal's gaze as he reaches between them and and starts stroking.

He watches as Neal's eyes drift shut, feels Neal's hands tighten on his shoulders. A minute later, Neal is coming, too, and he leans into Peter as he finishes, kissing his neck, breathing hard.

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Peter wraps his arms around Neal and they stand there for a minute, breath slowing down, relaxing.

  
***

"Oh shit!" Peter sits straight up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, searching frantically for his clothes and hoping that they're not in too much of a state of disarray. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but looking back, it was inevitable. Neal had broken their embrace and climbed into the bed, folding back the sheets and inviting him in. With the stress of the case just starting to dissipate and the after effects of alcohol and sex, Peter had suddenly been extremely tired; enough that he didn't think he should be driving, and so he had joined Neal. Without calling Elizabeth.

He's in the middle of putting on his underwear when he hears Neal's laugh behind him.

"Something funny about my impending death?" Peter asks. "I told Elizabeth I'd be home hours ago."

"Come back to bed, Peter," Neal says.

It does look inviting, Peter thinks. Neal is sprawled half under the covers, loose limbed and relaxed, the sheets are riding low on his stomach.

"I will if you talk to my wife."

"Peter, I talked to her earlier this afternoon."

Peter stops with his shirt half-on. He wasn't expecting that.

"I told her that I was going to invite you up for drinks and that you might be back late."

"And she was ok with that?"

"There may have been a mention of certain death if I hurt you in any way," Neal says. Peter smiles. Just one more reason he loves her.

"She also said to relax and have fun and she'll see you in the morning."

That last bit catches Peter off guard. He searches Neal's face for any sign that he's lying (it's hard to tell, but Peter is getting better at it), and sees that there's no change in Neal's sleepy demeanor.

"Come back to bed, Peter," Neal repeats. His tone is a bit more weary now, as though he's falling asleep while waiting for Peter's answer, trusting Peter to make the right decision.

In the end, Peter reflects, the choice is easy.


End file.
